Title: Seven Times He Fell
Series: 21 for 21
Author: jmaria
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: J.K. owns them, I just play with them.
Pairing: Fred/Angelina
Three Words prompt: purple, snowglobe, ivy
Word Count: 718
Summary: How many snubs can one girl take?
Notes: 21 for 21 is my insane plan to write 21 ficlets for my birthday. . . except that people on lj give me a pairing and three words.
Count: 7/21
Dedication: to vikingwriter for the characters and the three words

Seven Times He Fell

She ignored him right out when he called her name in the crowded street in Hogsmeade. Served him right, for how many times he'd ignored her or broke a date because he was off running round with George or working on the products for their new joke shop? Didn't even send her an owl to let her know that everything was fine, that he hadn't fallen into a ditch and died. She wrapped her old Gryffindor scarf around her face more tightly and went on examining the ivy covered wall in front of her.

"Angelina, Angie!" Fred Weasley shoved his way over to her. He knew she'd be upset because of all the hours he'd been putting in at the shop.

"I'm not speakin to you, Fred," She yelled back, darting away from him the second he got close to her.

"What'd I do now, Angie?"

"Besides being a lousy mate and a lousy boyfriend? Nothing, not a bloody thing!" She huffed, making her way toward the Three Broomsticks.

"I got here on time, Angie. The shop's been busier than usual, it is the Christmas shopping rush."

"Oh, let's not let my match interrupt your sales, Fred," Angelina scoffed.

"I didn't know I wasn't gonna be able to make your match, Angie! You know George and I-" Angelina spun around on him with a murderous look in her eyes, cutting his explanation off.

"That's just it! You spend more time at your bloody store with your bloody brother than you do with me! I could ask you a thousand questions about me - and you'd probably only know half the answers to them. I could ask you five questions about the shop and you'd get every single one right. I'm sick of being third place, Fred."

She stormed into the Three Broomsticks, ordered a pint and angrily drank at one of the secluded booths. It wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend, so the pub was shockingly half empty. Her throat hurt and her eyes ached, but she swallowed down the bitter liquor. She'd gotten half way through it when a heavy cardboard box slammed down onto the table. She jumped and gaped up at a very angry looking Fred.

"What the bloody hell -"

"I'm a bad mate and a bad boyfriend? Those were your words, right?"

"Fred, you're making a bloody scene!" She hissed.

"Wouldn't know half the answers to questions about you?"

"Fred, stop it!"

He took out seven items, laid them flat on the table. Angelina stared at them, recognizing some of them. She looked up at him, confusion in her brown eyes. He pointed to a dried ivy leaf.

"From the Yule ball, our sixth year when Snape nearly caught us in the gardens. You were afraid the bushes would tear your gown, so I put a spell on em for you. All you walked out of there was an ivy leaf in your hair. George, Alicia, Lee and Katie teased us about it."

"I'd almost forgotten that," she groaned.

The next thing he pointed to was a ratty piece of purple cloth. That she remembered. She glanced up at his face, her fingers reverently touching the cloth.

"What's left of the scarf your gran made you before she died. Flint threw it in one of the fireplaces when we beat them that first game second year. It was all I managed to save for you."

One by one, he went through the rest of the items. From the stolen key to the room where they'd first made love, to the mug she'd made him in her muggle pottery class she was taking, to the first Daily Prophet clipping about her success on the Harpies, to the Quidditch snow globe he'd made her. The last thing she didn't recognize. It was a small wooden box. She frowned at it.

"This is why I was missed your match."

He flipped it open to reveal a stunning golden ring with a citrine and ruby setting. Her mouth dropped open, and she could feel him grinning at her. She blinked back tears.

"Well, will you marry me, or not Angie?"

"You're an evil man, Fred Weasley," she said in a husky voice.

"That's why you love me," he grinned. "Well?"

"Yes, you bloody idiot, of course I will!"